Macrocosm
by A Mary Sue Ann
Summary: "Was everything supposed to be alright after the Red Queen kicked it? Really?" A story about the aftermath of the Red Queen's defeat, because there's no such thing as a perfectly happy ending. T just in case.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. Everything belongs to the almighty Walt Disney Pictures and His Morbidness Tim Burton. And kudos to Lewis Caroll for Wonderland.

**Author's note:** My first go at fanfic :D Just a taste tester, really. Not sure how this works so please be kind to a newbie. Would greatly appreciate any suggestions on how to improve/ progress the story. This story is set 3 months after Alice returned from Underland. Alice never went to China. Allowing women into business in that time was a bit too controversial, wasn't it? Rated T just in case.

Macrocosm

Under the Hatter's Hat:

_ Underland is a mad place thought the Hatter. The people are mad! The flowers are mad! Marmoreal is mad! The White Queen is very mad! And the Mad Hatter- _

_-was shamefully, strangely, Not mad. He had not been mad since the morning and it was starting to bother him like an itch one couldn't quite reach. The thing was, that contrary to popular belief, the Mad Hatter wasn't mad per say, despite being completely certifiable, thoroughly off-your-head bonkers cadoodlish like most of the inhabitants of Underland were- despite being Mad (which was another thing altogether). He was, in fact, very sane. So sane that he was Mad, if that made sense. He did not feel mad enough today. Or Mad enough, as it were, and he couldn't! Stand! That! _

_The Queen chattered on, she (never, ever) noticed, her voice melodious and movements light. "It's been so nice without Racie around." _

Nice,_ thinks the Hatter. The Queen is right of course. Underland has become Nice. _Nicely white_, concluded the Hatter, _whitely nice_. It was excessively white, in the white hall they were walking along. The white roses had white stalks and shockingly frozen bemused expressions under the white light shining down from the sky. White pillars gracefully carved with white vines and white marbled floors with nary a trace or a scar were illuminated every few feet. _Everything is very nice_, thought the Hatter, and shuddered. "No more nasty red guards, no more Jabberwocky, no more meanness!" _

_"I'm ever so grateful." said the White Queen, finally, her dark lips curving into a smile as she brushed a hand over a single white rose. The little rose gasped once, its petals filling with liquid. Its frantic struggles were drowned by pale brown liquid as it morphed too quickly into a cup. "Tea, Tarrant?" smiled the White Queen, eyes wide and brilliant. She removed the cup gently, taking a generous sip of the warm liquid. It was an exquisite picture as ever- the perfectly poised queen in sartorial glory (which was very white)._

_"Tea, milady?" he mimicked, in that selfsame voice, "Am I a teacup dreaming of a rose, or a rose dreaming of tea?" he wondered aloud. The queen laughed, a tinkling, (not) pretty laugh. _All is not right with the world_, thought the Hatter_, it's missing something, something very important, a something, 'A' something- Al

_ "Oh, Tarrant, you're not your usual self today." frowned the Queen, when he did not reply. Then she smiled indulgently, moving forward gracefully, waving a hand with the ethereal grace she alone possessed. "Or are you just not here today?" _

_ "Time and me have finally caught up," he said brightly, it was as good an explanation as any, "I am me, today at least." _

_ "Then why are you not joyous?" frowned the Queen, bemused. She waved a hand elegantly. "Is not my rule meant to be joyous?" _

"_Joyous as a lark." laughed the Hatter like a madman_. _(Because, obviously, if the White Queen of Underland thinks he is joyous then it must be so.) "Tis me weary soul but whippered." said the Hatter aloud, his thoughts flying past his lips; he smiled through the darkening of his irises- like a grinning Cheshire, thought the Hatter, that came out a little too churlish- he decided not to care. "Tis the execution of banishments worn me, ah ken- Tis- " _

_ "Banishments!" now the Queen was astonished, and he stopped as her voice dissipated the strange raw sensation that had come to rest inside his mind. "Oh no, displacements. It's good for the community, Tarrant- I'd hate to displace you as well." she said earnestly. She shook her head ever so gently. "I'd only ever banish Racie." _

_ "Displacement mislikes me too." replied the Hatter, eyes wide and green. He laughed, a bubbling laugh that came from somewhere- nowhere- the Hatter thought. It went up and up and up! "As it does, dear Chess-" _

_ "Oh, that was for your good Tarrant," sniffed the Queen. She returned the teacup to the bush where it morphed into a rose once more, freezing under her touch before it could close into a bud. Her dark eyes were wide and shining. _Like boojum teeth,_ thought the Hatter, and shook his head hard, once, to knock out the slurvish thought. "That silly cat stole your hat! No one should steal hats! Meanness will not do, wouldn't you say?"_

_ And the Hatter, who did not like to be called Tarrant by the White Queen, who did not like to drink the tearful tea of frozen roses and who did not like at all to banish anybody- instead said something the Queen did not want to hear: _

_ "I want to see Alice!" he blurted out. He felt the words fly past his lips before he could stop them. Naughty teeth, thought the Hatter, and licked the back of his front teeth reproachfully, feeling the gap therein. Naughty teeth, always saying things he didn't want them to! But so there! He'd said it anyway! Like a broken dam, he felt madness tumble in. He felt his mind reset! It had a single direction rather than the flood of directions that were bringing him closer to sweet madness. He knew with a sudden bone deep certainty. Yes! He felt Mad again! Yes! I must see Alice, thought the Hatter, and felt the world brighten. The words threatened to spillover the tip of his tongue: Alice! He was rambling, he knew, or was about to; he never could tell the difference, and never quite cared to-_

_ "Oh no! You simply mustn't." the Queen's voice cut suddenly through his reverie, "Alice is a _legend_, a Champion." she continued sagely, walking down the halls. They turned, and the Queen went a little ways ahead towards the throne room on her own as the Hatter's body came to the sudden stand still that his mind had when he'd heard the word 'no'. "Champions are perfectly wonderful, but we can't be having with them when there's no meanness can we?" she added, "What would we do being around Champions with no meanness to deal with?" she shook her petite head gently, firmly._

_ And the Queen shot him a brilliant smile before she vanished into the throne room. The white solid doors clicked shut behind her with a final certainty. _

_ The Hatter thought: Alice.  
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**Chapter 1: Alice Kingsleigh's Treatise on Codfish**

_ In which,_

_~ Alice contemplates codfish ~Lord Ramming is introduced to sherry ~Alice is mad with the Hatter._

If Alice had been born in the age of liberty, she would have stood besides de Gouges and Condorcet, demanding for women's suffrage. If Alice had been born in the nineteen fifties, she would have participated ardently in the Woodstock Festival. If Alice had been born in the 21st century, she would have dressed up like a boy and rejoiced in the freedom of not having to wear a dress and bob around like a giant perambulator.

As it was, being born in quaint, conservative nineteenth century England, she was stuck with the dress, corset, stockings, associated trappings and all the discomfort compounded by the hot sun of the English summer in full force- and yes, she was unsurprisingly expected to walk in a dainty manner, such that she did, in fact, look like she was bobbing about like a giant perambulator.

_Codfish,_ Alice thought, as she looked around at the garden party. Three months after the whole fiasco at the Ascot Manor and her impromptu trip to Underland, her mother had recovered sufficiently to once again host yet another arduous party on the wide green lawns at the Kingsleigh manor. The party was being held by the side of the small brook that dashed its way at the edge of the lawn, which in turn was dotted with quaint white chairs covered in filigree. The sun was being willfully cheery and making its presence known everywhere.

_Everything, dear Alice, said a certain behatted Hatter, is to do with codfish._

_Like a catchment of codfish,_ thought Alice idly_, a garden party sole purpose is to round up the richest and oiliest specimens of a society. It allows for meaningless conversations between fellow gaping codfish, and for oily suitors to smarm their way from table to table._ Or Alice to Alice as it were.

She was currently stuck in the company of yet another one- a Lord Geoffery Ramming. _He isn't a terrible person_, thought Alice, as she attempted to walk daintily and balance a glass of sherry at the same time- _he only happens to look like he's continually trying to out-sniff a giraffe; he only emphasizes every word by fluffing his very expensive silk cravat; he only has an unfortunate tendency to talk to anybody around- and within range of hearing- about himself. _

"Of course, Miss Kingsleigh," he was saying, as they strolled (lit. Struggled for Alice) down the banks of the brook, "I've recently acquired a new stable." _-oh yes, that too_, thought Alice. _He has an amazing ability to make every syllable sound like a neigh._

"A new stable?" she found herself saying, instead of several very rude things. This was a little because Alice was attempting to be a reasonably civil person; this was mostly because her mother was within earshot. "Really."

"Oh yes." Ramming pounced on what he must have somehow managed to perceive as interest, "I've recently acquired several thoroughbreds of distinct quality, all fine beasts of course." he neighed, "Alice, have you ridden a Palfrey?"

Alice, who had rather been thinking how horse-like Ramming himself was, quickly searched for something vaguely resembling an answer. "No. I have ridden astride a Bandersnatch before." she said instead, before she could remember herself.

Ramming's face turned an interesting shade of puce as his features flamed with the embarrassment Alice didn't feel in the least. "I have acquired a sidesaddle* for you." he said when he recovered. "And surely a young Palfrey is a much better fit for a lady such as yourself than a- " he wrinkled his nose haughtily, "-Bandersnatch. My, that does sound like a vicious breed-" he sniffed.

_A certain someone would have laughed,_ came a perfidiously distracting thought, right before she started to wonder why in the world Ramming had acquired a sidesaddle for her.

"- you shall have to sit sidesaddle if we go riding when you move in of course," Ramming was saying, as he once again primped his cravat, "The Palfrey is a meek brute but of course-"

"-move in-" interrupted Alice faintly, in equal parts distracted by the summer heat and a sudden image of a horse with Ramming's face. (There was not much difference to the real thing.)

"-why of course," Ramming continued, "After the wedding. Mother will be delighted of course, and it is only proper for a young lady of your age-" he stopped again, but not because Alice had interrupted him again.

For one moment, he had been self-absorbedly conversing. In the next moment, Lord Ramming found himself spluttering indignantly as sticky sherry-cobbler* dripped from his brow and down his long nose and ruined that very expensive silk cravat. Alice stared at the empty glass in her hand, half-astonished, half-vindictive. Then she turned to glare at him.

"I am not," said Alice, "and never will be getting married to you."

Ramming's features were quickly taking on a far redder tinge, so much so she feared he might burst. _She took a step back because she didn't believe Ramming was clever enough not to include her in the blast radius-_

And later, as Alice stepped into the mansion, dripping wet from brook water and with her mother and sister around, fussing at making sure she did not look too undignified, Alice thought again about codfish.

_The Hatter would have laughed. _Alice tried hard to look as if she was utterly remorseful for falling into the brook as Mrs Kingsleigh fussed.

_Thank you once more, Hatter_, thought Alice, gritting her teeth. _Another mad thought and embarrassing incident to brighten life in Overland._ She had no idea why she had thrown the sherry at Lord Ramming. (Well, not exactly. She had a pretty clear idea. She was just trying to believe so because she'd been taught not to throw drinks at people for being pompous gits.) _Associating with madmen will do that,_ her mind supplied a moment later. It struck her then.

_She was mad at the Hatter._

Why? She was in a very good mood to behave childishly and ignore that pang of Adultish reasonableness that was currently trying (not very) hard to make itself known. It was the Hatter's fault for bribing her young impressionable self with tea and cake; the Hatter's fault she remembered Underland; _the Hatter's fault she was thinking of throwing her tea cup every time she sat at a tea party, and as for not staying in Underland- _

Alice refused to think any further- she might have accidentally stumbled across Logic and Being Reasonable somewhere down the line; that simply would not do when she was trying to be mad. Alice wished she could see the Hatter again, as she was bundled, dripping, into the house. She wanted to be utterly mad at him.

*sidesaddle: uncomfortable thing Victorian ladies use to sit on a horse.

*sherry-cobbler: A drink Alice was told not to touch.

_**Coming up next: To dance a Polka**_

_In which,_

_Alice is discombobulated, Helen Kingsleigh meets Underland and Hamish suffers from Hat-deficiency._

**Will post more if there's interest :)**


End file.
